Saturday, January 24, 2015

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate, Rough winds to shake the darling buds of May... and all of that other shit. The truth is, no Shakespearean sonnet can sum up the love that I have for you, sweet prince. Sweet, sweet Chris. No Kate Hudson rom-com can define our everlasting love. The passions we have shared over the years have only grown stronger with time...and more tender. Some mornings I wake up after a night of our intimate lovemaking and I feel my heart practically drowning in both love and lust, simultaneously.

With eyes that you can get lost in and a body that can bring any girl to both tears of joy and tears of horniness, your looks can be met by no man (except for possibly Jake Gyllenhaal). My hands run gently through your delicious head of hair--not one grey hair visible, not one sign of thinning in sight. You are a god of the gods, a man of both pureness and godliness. If they ever make a movie about Jesus again, you are likely to be their pick for main lead.

And Mel Gibson better not fucking kill Jesus in this one, that sick son of a bitch. I will hunt him down and feed his penis to the wolves.

That brings me to that beard. That rugged patch of manliness, that beautiful masculine gem of a facial hair that you sometimes don to award shows to make women cream their pants. That beard is both a beauty and an insulator. Keeping your face warm, keeping my heart warm...keeping everyone warm.

But our love is not solely a physical one. Chris Pine, you and I are connected in both body AND mind. We share a true bond that I share with no other man, and you share with no other woman. No person understands me like you. No man has shown interest in both my vagina and my brain as you have, sweet Chris. Sweet, sweet Chris. There is nothing we do not talk about with each other, we are both open-books. Sexy open books who like to make sweet passions in your BMW before you drive off to go be hot in some silly movie you are in.

Chris Pine, you are the reason why I wake up in the morning. I live for you, Chris. I have devoted my life to your sexiness and your penis.

In fact, I have built many shrines to your man meat. This shrine includes a piece of dirt that may have been near your penis this one time, four years ago and a drawing I made a year ago of what your penis (probably looks like). I say many prayers to this shrine tri-daily. I praise God everyday for your averaged sized cock.

As if your looks and brains were not enough, you hit the ladies with your undeniable sense of humor. You can hear panties drop within a 5 mile radius whenever you bust out your best material.

Like, remember that time you made that joke about the cow and the protractor?! HAHAHA oh my god, hilarious. You had me rolling for hours. So typical you. Cracking jokes, making sillies...so effortlessly, so sexily.

I sometimes feel like our love is so strong, I just want to kill myself. There is only so much love the heart can bear. After I watched the Star Trek movie I almost drove my car off the bridge near the theatre. You were just so beautiful (or maybe the movie was just incredibly boring). Regardless, I often fantasize about us killing ourselves together. The ultimate act of romance... the ultimate act of passion.

Okay, Chris, I know this is breaking all the rules clearly outlined in my restraining order but we both know those are only technicalities. Our love is stronger than a little piece of paper. Our love is stronger than your pure terror of being within 20 miles of me. I know that we can make it. I know that we will be together forever.

And if you die, I will dig your corpse up, keep it in my house and snuggle with it every night.

Because I love you and that is what people who love each other do.

Love always and FOREVER (and I mean forever),

Jules

P.S. If you ever decide to date Taylor Swift, we are so fucking done. I will never send you my homemade chocolate fudge brownie cookies ever again.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Okay, white cheddar cheez-its are just TO die for... and I am not the least bit ashamed or embarrassed to admit it. But that's about all there is to say about white cheddar cheez-its, just thought I would mention them nonetheless.

Hello biddies of the nation! It has been a minute since I have posted on my blog. Yeah, I can bore you with the details about how I have been busy with "work" and "school" and petty things like that, but I respect you way too much to do that to you. I am far too appreciative of your presence in my cyber life to thrust my laundry list of things I have been doing and things I must do on to you (quite the opposite of 90% of my Facebook friends, just sayin'). Instead, let's just get right to the meat and potatoes (is that even an expression?? WHO AM I??)

It has been a very lively couple of weeks. More unarmed black men have been killed by police, two police were killed by a crazy and Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston managed to completely avoid each other at an award show. I do not know which one of those things is more pivotal! You decide.

That brings me to my main order of business: award show season. Specifically: the Oscars. I posted last year about my distaste for award shows in general. The dresses that are more times ugly than not, the exhausted Meryl Streep jokes about how she's won SO many times and HA HA HA leave it for someone else Meryl, the acceptance speeches that last longer than two of my dad's trips to the shitter and LASTLY the white people.

Oh, the white people. So many whites, so little time.

Okay, let me preface this with the fact that I really do not give one fuck about the Oscars. You are talking to someone whose favorite movie is She's the Man. I do not need a bunch of old white men to tell me which movies to like.

Any quick glance of the Oscar nominations this year will reveal the unsurprising: 90% (or more, I am no mathematician) of the movies are for and about white people.

Recently, Al Sharpton called for protests about this issue...this very...old...issue. Do not get me wrong, I think it is totally fucked, all the same. But, were we all taking a nap for the past how many years? The Oscars only honor black actors rarely and the movie ALWAYS has to be relevant to slavery.

Dear Black actor, Oh, you are black? You are in a movie? Are you a slave in said movie? No? Okay, not interested, keep moving. Love, The Academy

Besides, it is always the same three black actors who are honored and the rest are ignored completely. Let's see, let's see we have: Denzel, Samuel L. Jackson and Morgan Freeman. There just is not anymore room in these white people's heads for ONE more black actor! Quota is full.

Now, it's hard to say what the REAL issue is. Is this all a product of the fact that mainstream Hollywood and cinema IS pro-white? Or, is this because the people who make the nominations and choose the winners are all white people? Both?! I do not want to get too far into all of this racial discrimination and what not but it is important to recognize that this IS a thing. While Al Sharpton is all about Al Sharpton, there is something to be said about these protests.

Where are the Asian-American actors? Where are the hispanic-American actors? Where are we? Who am I? Why am I?

I mean, I love Jake Gyllenhaal and all but I can give my bean flicking a rest for one night for the sake of, you know, human rights and everything. I know, I am such a good person.

The truth is, everyday I become more and more aware of how pro-white every part of our society is. The culture is completely plagued by subconscious white-supremacy, masked by liberalism and pseudo-progression.

Remember my good biddies, there's more to life than white people... but, there is very little more to life than white cheez-its. You remember that now.